Sustenance with Love
by zelasswilder
Summary: Vegeta looks after a sick Bulma with his little helping nurse, Bra. Short shameless one-shot fluff. Little bit of Trunks. No other characters.
1. ThumpDump

Author's Notes: This is my first Dragonball Z fic. I would like to start by saying I watched the series a long time ago and have been picking it back up as of recently. However, my time line might be a bit off. By that, I think Trunks and Bra's ages may be off in relation to each others. That should be the only thing affecting this story. This is set whenever the two Brief children may be that age. It really doesn't have a specific placing among the DBZ timeline.

I would also like to say, I don't own Dragonball Z and I in no way profit from this story.

* * *

Training. That's how this morning was beginning. Just as it had started countless mornings since before that day. Throughout his entire life living in the Capsule Corporation. Wake up-- Train. Eat-- Train. Eat-- Train. Shower-- Go to sleep. The process would most likely repeat the very next morning.

It was a wonderful sort of consistency that Vegeta prided himself on.

He kicked the air, testing his agility under the harsh gravity. It was getting easier, which meant he'd have to have Bulma go in later and work on the GR for him. Make it even more rigorous-

A loud buzzer beeped in the room. Somebody wanted inside.

Vegeta regained proud posture and he waited.

"Dad?" It was Trunks.

"What?" Vegeta smirked. Perhaps dating was no longer going to envelop the teenagers mind. Maybe he was here to join his father in a training session-

"Dad, Mom's sick."

Vegeta's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. He was no doctor, and he had never been one known for wonderful bedside manner. Why would Trunks go to _him_?

Scowling, he approached the door and shut off the gravity, opening the seal to look at his son. "And?" he demanded.

Trunks made a face and Bra looked at her father at his side. He hadn't even sensed the little girl's energy. She was quite weak and Trunks's energy signature just overwhelmed hers.

"Go help her!" Bra demanded of her father pushily.

"Yeah, Grandma and Grandpa are on that vacation at that place-"

"Oh, the details," Vegeta interrupted his son sarcastically, rolling his eyes as he stepped out completely from his GR and into the outside with his children.

"Well, they're not here is the point I was trying to make," Trunks replied, his tone as huffy as the little girl standing at his side had been moments earlier.

"Go help her!" Bra repeated, starting to tug on Vegeta's pants.

He glanced down at her and sighed. It was no wonder that he hadn't noticed Bulma being ill. He had trained so intensely the night before that he had dozed off in the shower. He had awoken in bed, somebody had moved him and he assumed it to be Bulma. She hadn't been in the immediate area though. So he shrugged it off and resumed training. That had been at about 4 that morning when he walked back into the GR.

"I have to go to class," Trunks was explaining now, "and, despite your reasoning that Bra is a female, she's just a girl and she doesn't have the ability to look after Mom right." He looked down at his father now, hoping that he wouldn't have to go into it further.

"Whatever. Go learn or whatever it is you claim to do in that schooling facility. I'll see to your mother," Vegeta scowled, his hand on Bra's absent mindedly.

"Really?!" Trunks exclaimed, obviously expecting his father to bail on looking after Bulma.

"If I were to let her rot wherever she is with whatever disability she's obtained due to her human weaknesses I'd never hear the end of it when she recovered," Vegeta rolled his eyes with a scoff.

"Cool! Thanks, Dad!" and in a flash, Trunks was gone.

Vegeta sneered, apparently he kept his agility at top notch to avoid being in the same room as his father for more than was required.

"Daddy. Go fix Mommy."

He blinked and looked down at Bra, having forgotten she was even there. He lifted her up into his arms, "I'll see what I can do for her. I can't guarantee she'll be fixed. She's only human," he jeered his wife's race.

"But you're not. You're special, Daddy. You can fix her, I know it," Bra told him. She was beaming with Saiyan pride. Vegeta looked down and saw a look of honor and unmovable self-confidence reminiscent of his own. This was his little Saiyan Princess and she loved him with all of her heart.

He smiled ever so lightly, "I'll see what I can do," he repeated.

* * *

"Woman?" Vegeta walked into the room Bra had guided him into. It was the bedroom. He had been so tired the night before he hadn't even noticed the room he'd been placed in hadn't been his own. Bulma had shoved him off in some guest bedroom so she didn't have to deal with her ghost of a husband.

"… Bulma?" he repeated, seeing the lump under the covers not move. He slowly set Bra down on the ground, motioning with his hands for her to stay put as he walked over to his wife. "Trunks informed me that you're ill," he tried to stir a reaction out of her. Bulma didn't budge and Vegeta pursed his lips.

"You must be ill. You've shut up for once in your life," Vegeta bantered as he leaned over the bed and removed the blanket from his wife. Her beautiful face was pallid with the exception of her cheeks which were a bright red. She looked like a child who had gotten into her mother's makeup and only knew what to do with the blush. Her hair was a mess around her head and her eyes opened groggily to look up at her prince gazing down at her. She didn't say anything. She just watched him through squinted foggy eyes.

"Daddy, fix heeeeer," Bra whimpered, taking a step forward and Vegeta glanced over at his daughter.

"Stay put. You can catch this, child," Vegeta ordered and Bra saluted him before resuming her previous position.

Vegeta's eyes went back to Bulma. "How are you feeling?" he inquired.

Bulma chuckled softly, "How do you think?" she hoarsely retorted.

"Well, you're not dying if you can still be hateful," Vegeta decided and he took off his glove, wiping his palms on his training towel.

"If you think you're putting that sweaty hand on my head without washing it, you better think twice," Bulma interrupted Vegeta's actions.

"You're already sick," Vegeta said curtly.

"Don't care. Go wash your hands."

"Daddyyyyy, just listen to her. Mommy's smart," chimed Bra.

"You've brainwashed her," Vegeta snorted and he left the side of the bed to go the bathroom to wash up.

"So have you!" Bulma hollered roughly from the bed before starting to cough.

Vegeta's jaw clenched at the sound of her coughs. Those damn cigarettes didn't help her out any in the healthy lung department. He began to wash his hands but decided half-way through he might as well just shower.

It only took about a minute to shower, he just needed to wash the sweat off. He patted down and changed into sweat pants and a tight black t-shirt with Bulma's branding on it. Capsule Corporation. 'Yeah, we know the name already. It's plastered on just about every single piece of technical equipment on this side of the galaxy,' Vegeta thought inwardly as he walked back over to the bed. Bra had plopped on the closest chair to her mother and Vegeta sighed.

"I told you to stay put," but his heart wasn't in the order. His eyes were on Bulma again.

"Mommy got quiet. I wanted to make sure her heart was still thump-dumping," Bra told him.

Vegeta smiled despite himself. "Pumping," he corrected.

"No! Thump-dump!" Bra firmly insisted.

"Well, her heart is still thump-dumping. I assure you that much," Vegeta pressed his hand to Bulma's forehead and his face fell.

Her eyes flickered open from dozing off moments before and made a face of disapproval of her prince's expression. "What?"

"You're very hot."

"I know. I don't even need makeup to look good-"

"Stop that. You're feverish," Vegeta cut her off, not seeming like he was in the mood to quip with her.

"I have a cold, it comes with the territory. I'll be okay, 'Geta," Bulma frowned at his worry.

"I'll get you a cloth," Vegeta decided and he left the room before returning with a cold damp rag. He placed it with a not-exactly gentle plop on her forehead and she gasped in surprise.

"C-cold!"

"To bring down the fever," he nodded at her confidently.

"You son of a bitch, you could have slid it on a bit more tenderly," Bulma adjusted it on her forehead and glared at him.

"Since when have you known me to be tender, woman?" Vegeta smiled warmly down at her though and Bulma smiled back.

They knew when. When they were 'mating' as Vegeta liked to call it.

"Daddy is nice to me!" Bra chirped in the background.

The prince sighed, "You've trained her to make peanut gallery comments constantly. I can't say I entirely approve of this new development."

"You never talk. I have to get your offspring to say _something_ to me. If they acted like you, nobody would have known I was sick," Bulma said softly up to him. She watched as a flash of guilt came across Vegeta's golden features and he seemed to shake it off physically before resuming his stoic facial expression.

"They'd be strong and able to protect you if they were like me. Your son is too busy trying to learn the ways of Earth to have the abilities to protect it," Vegeta countered. He took the bottle of medicine from the night-stand and examined the directions as though they were the most interesting thing in the world.

"What about Bra?" Bulma inquired.

There was a long minute of silence as the girls awaited his reply. "She's too fragile," Vegeta settled on the phrasing.

"Too human, you mean," Bulma watched him, waiting for him to look up and say something.

"Yes. I suppose being human accounts for a great amount of that weakness," was all he said as he began to pour the medicine into a spoon.

"I'm not weak! I'm strong!" Bra huffed in the corner.

"Hmm," Vegeta hummed simply as he motioned for Bulma to sit up.

The blue-haired beauty struggled weakly on the bed and Vegeta sighed. He put the handle of the spoon in his mouth and bit down on it so the medicine didn't spill out. His jaw clenched with the tightness of a dedicated pit-bull, he leaned over and helped her sit up slowly. Bulma was watching the spoon, waiting for the medicine to spill everywhere. If it had been any other person in the galaxy with that spoon handle in between their teeth it probably would have spilt. But it didn't.

Bulma was sitting up against the many pillows Vegeta had piled up and he removed his hands from her body. She watched with cerulean eyes as he removed the spoon from his teeth without spilling a drop. "What are you staring at, Mommy?" Bra inquired curiously in the background.

"… Just your daddy, hun," Bulma replied, "He's just awfully handsome is all."

"Like Trunks!" Bra chimed.

Vegeta smiled lightly but said nothing. He held the spoon in front of her lips. "Open."

Bulma did as she was told, watching Vegeta now as she swallowed down the thick liquid. She thought she'd done pretty well but her body seemed to disagreed because she was soon in a coughing fit on the bed.

Vegeta's hand slid up to her shoulder and she felt it subconsciously, gently rubbing her skin to soothe her. When she had stopped coughing she looked up, her eyes in tired slits, at Vegeta. His lips were pursed and he opened them to ask, "Did you get it all down?"

Bulma nodded weakly and Vegeta sighed, "Then it would be best for you to lie back down, now." He softly pushed her body down on the bed so she was back in her previous position.

"You need to rest. I'll come back with water and sustenance so you will be able to regain strength faster," Vegeta informed her. He stood up and left the room, Bra popping to her feet and running out after him.

"Daddy, what's sustenance?" she asked.

"Soup."

"Oh. Is it gonna be made with love like Nanny Bunny makes it?!" Bra inquired peppily.

"… Yes."

"Good. Then it's gonna be super good cause you love Mommy _this _much," and she opened her arms big and wide to illustrate the love-measurement to the Saiyan prince.

Vegeta looked down and smiled. "It will definitely be better than your mother's soup, Bra."


	2. I'm Sure it's Great

**Authors Notes: **I hadn't intended on the first installment on being popular at ALL, but considering so many people seemed to want more… I guess I'll make this a little longer. Don't worry. There'll be more. I've already got it planned, hunnies.

I don't own DBZ.

* * *

"What is this? What happened to Bra?" Bulma looked up at her husband expectantly as Vegeta sat down on the side of the bed with a bowl of steaming soup in his gloved hands.

"Soup," Vegeta responded as he situated himself, crossing his legs on the bed and balancing the soup on his palm the entire time.

"Please tell me that doesn't answer both questions," Bulma smiled weakly at the prince in front of her and he blinked in surprise.

"Why can't it answer both questions?" he asked, not an ounce of joking humor in his voice.

"… Did you cook our daughter!?!" Bulma gasped, jerking up suddenly. "Vegeta! I thought you were over murdering people! What the hell!?"

"Oh. You meant it like that," Vegeta blinked again at her and then he smirked and shook his head. "She's eating soup in the kitchen."

"Why couldn't you answer the question like that the first time?" Bulma stared at him in exhaustion, slipping down on the bed and glaring up at her from underneath the washcloth that was sliding down her forehead.

"It never occurred to me to cook her."

Bulma frowned, suddenly feeling guilty for accusing Vegeta of something so brash. She knew he loved Bra. She must have been sicker than she'd thought.

"… What kind of soup is it, 'Geta?" she tiredly inquired, awaiting his answer patiently as he adjusted a little and scooted beside her on the large bed.

"Well, if I had known before you were so opposed to eating children I guess I should tell you why you haven't seen your son today-"

"That's _so_ not funny," she snipped at the smirking warrior sitting criss-cross applesauce only inches from her aching body.

"I thought it was quite hilarious," Vegeta smiled a little more and he stirred the soup around in the bowl. It was a long minute of Vegeta stirring the soup before Bulma decided to interrupt the silence as usual.

"What is it?" Bulma repeated. "Can I at least taste it if I have to guess?" she added, seeing the flame-haired man not about to give her the soup.

"It's very hot. It should cool before you eat it," Vegeta told her drily.

But Bulma wasn't thinking about the possibility of her having a burnt tongue, "You left our daughter, _alone_, in the kitchen with flaming hot soup?"

The stirring abruptly stopped, "… I'll be right back." He got up quickly and Bulma groaned in slight discomfort as Vegeta set the bowl down on top of the nightstand before disappearing in a flash to go make sure Bra was alright.

She smiled to herself, despite the danger Bra could be in. Yeah, Vegeta was trying his hardest to take over as Daddy-dearest but he just wasn't cut out for it. The man wasn't accustomed to recognizing the dangers humans could get into. The idea of hot food didn't scare him so he didn't seem to think that Bra could get burnt by soup- which she very much could.

Her thoughts were cut off as the door reopened and Vegeta walked back inside. "She's fine," he assured her vaguely as he took the bowl carefully in his hands and sat down on the bed. "The soup has cooled a considerably large amount. Can you toughen up enough to eat? It'll bring your strength up," she smiled. Strength. That's what made the world go round with Vegeta.

"Yeah, I just gotta sit up," Bulma said, about to adjust to sit up, but she stopped herself at hearing a groan from her husband.

"What?"

"If I have to wait for the big production of you sitting up to give you this soup- the food will be cold by the time it ever reaches your lips," he scowled.

"You could help me, you big useless oaf," Bulma huffed at him before starting to cough now.

"So weak," she could have sworn she heard him mumble as he set down the bowl of soup and then wrapped his arms around her. The blue haired vixen's breath hitched, which didn't help her coughing and she felt the warm, firm, golden toned arms of her prince ease her up against his body. "Breath, I can't give you food if you're going to pass out on me," his rough voice huskily said into her ear as she curved into every inch of his body.

She coughed a few more times, "Wh-what?" she managed to wheeze.

"Breathe, woman."

"You're such an asshole," Bulma laughed hoarsely, betraying her harsh words and she lifted her head and stared into the charcoal orbs of the Prince of all Saiyans.

"You're the one who stuck around me so what does that say about you?" Vegeta smiled coyly before adjusting her in his grasp against his chest so she was leaning on her side against him, his right arm as a back rest for her. He leaned over and grabbed the bowl of soup.

"Can you feed yourself?" he asked and then he shook his head, "Of course you can't, what am I thinking even asking that? So weak," he rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry I'm not a body building freaky woman," Bulma sneered at him and suddenly there was a spoon in front of her face.

"Open."

"Huh?" Bulma dumbly blinked, not even thinking that this gesture was Vegeta trying to feed her. That wasn't something he did. Vegeta was more likely to take the soup and insert it into an IV before he spoon fed her like they were in some romantic tragic movie-

"AH!" she gasped when her dumb question had given Vegeta the go. He put the spoon in her open fish-gape mouth and then, seeing as how her gasp gave him even more room to maneuver the spoon in her mouth, he turned the spoon directly upside down so the soup inside the crevice spilled over her tongue and into her open mouth like a robotic un-smooth feeding machine.

She swallowed quickly and shut her mouth tightly, glaring at him. "That's how you intend on feeding me? Really?" She clamped her mouth down as she awaited an answer.

"Is there any other way you take your food but through the mouth?" came his smart-ass reply. Vegeta's eyebrows were raised and his lips crooked in a cocky smirk.

"You're funny- ah!" Vegeta slipped the spoon into her mouth again and let her actually wrap her lips around it, getting the soup into her mouth in a smoother fashion.

"… Better," Bulma grumbled after she swallowed. Then she noticed a sort of apprehension on Vegeta's features as he watched her, already getting another spoonful of soup ready to go into her mouth, but not before he stared into her face hopefully. What was he waiting for?

"What is it?" she asked and then there was a quick motion and the spoon was in her mouth again. "Ugh, stop it! Answer my question first, you weirdo!"

Vegeta didn't say anything though, he just stirred the soup up again, looking down directly at it instead of at her. "… Vegeta?"

"Open," he repeated and lifted his eyes to look at her. Why was he so adamant about her eating this damn soup? Sometimes he could be more moody than Chichi was- then she realized that hopefulness had only entered his face when she took a bite. Before he had been nervous. Nervous that she would like the soup- hopeful that she would. Awe, Prince Vegeta was (in his own weird way) fishing for a compliment!

Bulma frowned though, she couldn't really _taste _the soup and she'd hate to lie to him about it on the off chance it was bad. The only thing worse than him getting his feelings hurt right off the bat was her lying _now_ and then find out it was horrible and have to eat it more than once. "I wish I could taste this, it seems like you spent a good amount of time on it," she smiled softly up at him. He blinked, looking back down at the soup before stirring it a bit more. She loved how modest he got at the little things. How he was able to keep his expression completely unreadable until the bright pink blush crept onto his bronze cheeks that voiced his embarrassment. "What kind is it, 'Geta?" she cocked her head curiously.

"Chicken soup," Vegeta mumbled, stirring it more. Bulma made sure not to show her surprise. It didn't look like any chicken soup she'd ever seen. "I followed one of your blasted mother's recipes," Vegeta quickly informed her, as though that would excuse anything bad that came from the soup.

"Then I'm sure it's great," Bulma smiled up at him and Vegeta met her eyes finally. His cheeks were still a little red.

"You are so odd."

Bulma grinned, "Feed me, babe. I'm ready now."


	3. Favorite Color

**Author's Notes**: I don't know how much more I can extend on this story after this point. If you want more, give me prompts and I'll see what I can do!

* * *

"Oh my God… Ugh," Bulma leaned over the side of the bed and vomited once more into the large bucket that Vegeta had brought in. Shakily she reached her hand up, wiping the remains of what was at one point chicken soup from her lips before she began coughing even more. "I feel like my stomach just raped my brain… Oh God-" and she dry heaved once more, wishing she had a pony tail holder to pull her hair out of her face.

… Or at least a more competent husband…

Where was he? He should have been at her side, damn it! He had been helpful earlier! He had even fed her! But when she got sick, he had seemed distracted. He dragged a bucket in, dropped in loudly at the side of her bed with a cold grunt before hurrying off.

"I'll be damned if I'm going to be pitiful and he can't watch me and feel guilty about it," she growled, struggling up to her feet weakly. "I'll find you, Vegeta… And when I do… Oh, it won't be pretty. Not pretty at all." Had she had the energy, she would have laughed manically at the end of that little spiel. Considering she didn't even think she could talk any more than that without vomiting she decided to not press her luck any further.

Dragging her feet through the hallway, she began to listen for anything that would tell her where that worthless warrior of a man was. She was going to let him have it, she decided. As she began to work her angry speech out in her head she suddenly heard something.

It was Bra, in the bathroom, throwing her little guts up.

Bulma's heart sank at the sound of her daughter coughing and sobbing after she heaved into the toilet. She began to shuffle faster and then she heard the man she'd been searching for.

"Shhhh," Vegeta's confident voice came, "It's going to be alright, little one."

She smiled softly but suddenly felt a gag reflex and she hacked a little, leaning over and starting to cough the hallway.

"Bulma?" she heard his voice call out, but she hit the ground on her knees. "Bulma!" He was at her side now. "Hey, what are you doing out here? Have you lost your damn mind?" his tone was harsh but worried. He was harsh _because _he was worried. "You need to be in bed. You need to- Bra, stay put- Bulma, what are you- Bulma. Bulma… What… Bulma… Bed… Stupid stupid… Absolutely… Bra, stay PUT!"

His sharp scream at Bra made Bulma snap back into reality completely and she blinked her eyes. "Oh… Vegeta… Hey, I was looking for you…" she smiled dumbly up at her husband's worrying face. He really didn't seem to understand the fact that humans got sick.

"You should have stayed put. I told you that Bra got sick. I told you to stay put. Why don't you ever listen … stupid stupid… I just can't… ugh, of all the things I do…" his voice was fading in and out like a pair of headphones that needed to be replaced and only worked if you wanted to listen to something that seemed like it had a cause of stereo hiccups.

"You're silly, 'Geta," Bulma laughed up at him groggily. "Silly silly Saiyan boy," she grinned and Vegeta's eyebrows scrunched together even tighter.

She saw his lips move but heard nothing that came from them. "Hu…h…?" the room started spinning and she reached out for him and his warm arms enveloped her. "Bra, stay put," Vegeta was saying again to the little girl who was softly chiming something in the background. "Bra, stop it. Stay away. You need to stay stable," he kept saying. Stable? Then walking around probably was dumb of Bulma to decide to do… Huh. She didn't remember him telling her to stay put.

"You're eyes are bloodshot. Bulma, you need to rest," his voice was pleading. She'd never heard her prince's voice so desperate. "Bulma, hey… Hey, can you hear me? Bulma… Bulma, damn it! You're no good to me as this giddy sick vegetable!" he snapped and she blinked her eyes fully open, staring at him with her mouth open slightly like a gaping fish.

"… That's not very nice, 'Geta," she informed him, cocking her head slightly.

"Daddy… Daddy…" Bra whimpered in the background. She was in the door of the bathroom, her body shaking like a Chihuahua left out in a snowstorm with nowhere to take shelter. "Daddy, fix her… Fix her, Daddy," her voice broke as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Oh, baby, I'm fine," Bulma whispered. Bra didn't react like she heard the words. She must not have heard her. "Baby, I'm… I'm…" Bulma's lips pursed together, "I-I'm…"

Then her eyes rolled into the back of her head as the head of Capsule Corporation passed out in her handsome prince's arms.

"Daddy!" Bra cried out, running over to her parents as Vegeta stood up.

"I told you to stay put," Vegeta grumbled, hoisting her up into his arms along with her mother. "You need to listen to me," he added as an afterthought as he began to walk to the bedroom.

"Daddy… You were supposed to fix her. Daddy, fix her," Bra stared up at him with eyes large and pleading. "Daddy, please… Please… Mommy said people will do what you want if you say please and I've said please to you so many times and you haven't fixed her!" she broke into little sobs.

Vegeta's eyes widened and he looked at his daughter before looking down at Bulma, motionless and feverish in his arms. He quickened his pace and reached the bedroom Bulma had deserted only ten minutes before. He set the two blue-haired girls on the bed. Bulma moaned sickly and Bra continued crying.

"Stop that. She's going to be okay," Vegeta said firmly to his daughter and she shook her head quickly.

"Nuhuh! She was better before and then you gave her that food and she got worse and I ate some and now I'm sick! It's your fault, Daddy! It's all your fault! Mommy's going to die and it's your fault! You said you'd fix her and you didn't! You said you would! You said so! You SAID so!"

"I never said that!" Vegeta found himself arguing back with the small girl.

"Yuhuh! You said so! You said y-you'd fix her! That you could make her strong like you!"

"I NEVER SAID THAT, YOU STUPID CHILD!" Vegeta screamed, "STOP PUTTING WORDS IN MY MOUTH! I NEVER CLAIMED TO DO ANYTHING OF THE SORT!"

His chest heaved with emotions as he glared down fumingly at the young girl on the bed. The child who mirrored her frustrating mother in every way, shape, and form only to have everything enhanced by the genes she had inherited from her father. Bra's eyes were moistening with more tears, her eyebrows raised in shock and her little plump lips were opened slightly in fear. Fear of the monster that had overtaken her daddy. Daddy would never say that. Daddy never screamed like that. Daddy never got worried.

"Daddy, you're sick, too. You're not normal," she whispered the words like it would make up for the volume the prince had taken only moments before. The finality made Vegeta's heart sink.

"I'm perfectly fine," he spat. "You need to stop assuming. You're too much like your stupid mother."

"… You're being mean. Stop it-t," Bra whimpered.

"You need to listen to me for once in your ignorant life!" he snapped, "You stupid child, I'm doing the best that I can for your mother! Do you_ understand_ that!? I'M DOING THE BEST THAT I CAN!"

"Dad! What the hell!?" Vegeta felt his son's hands gripping his arms and snatching him away from the sight of the little crying girl on the bed. Trunks pushed Vegeta out of the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind him, staring down at his father in shock, "What are you doing!? Yelling at Bra like that! She's just a little girl!"

"She's not listening to me! She never listens to me! She constantly talks when I tell her to be quiet and she never stays put! She needs discipline!" Vegeta hissed up into the face of the violet haired teenager. "She needs to be taken care of now while she's still impressionable! She-"

"That's right, Dad! She's still impressionable!" Trunks snapped, pushing Vegeta into the wall and cornering her. "Bra isn't like ME. She's sensitive! She can't handle you screaming at her!"

"SHE SAID I POISONED BULMA AND I DIDN'T! AT LEAST I DIDN'T DO IT ON PURPOSE!"

Trunks stared down at Vegeta, "What?" he took a step back from the hulking small man as the prince took deep breaths.

"I didn't poison her."

"I heard that part. Why would she think you poisoned her? What happened?"

Vegeta looked away from Trunks, his eyebrows pulled together in a tight line. "I cooked soup. They both ate it. They both got sick."

The abrupt laughter from Trunks caught Vegeta off guard and he turned to look at him in shock, "What are you laughing about!? What is wrong with you!? They're both ill because of me!"

"You gave Mom, who I thought was the bad cook, food poisoning!" Trunks laughed out, "Wow! And she's already sick! You just topped her original illness!" he chuckled out.

"Shut up!"

Trunks quickly lost the humor of the situation and frowned at his royal father. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I just think it's ironic is all," he smiled.

"The irony is lost on me," Vegeta spat the words like venom up at Trunks.

Trunks smiled, "Did _you_ eat it?"

"… That's hardly what we're talking about right now," Vegeta huffed, crossing his arms even though _he_ was a little unsure of the topic they were currently talking about. He was positive that him not eating the soup was not relevant.

"Why didn't you eat it?" Trunks was still smiling down at him obnoxiously.

"I wasn't hungry," Vegeta hissed angrily.

"Liar."

"I live in a family of accusers and extortionists!" Vegeta declared moodily.

"You didn't think it looked good," Trunks was still smiling like the cat that ate the canary, "and even though you didn't think it was good for YOU, a SAIYAN, you gave it to your human wife and half human daughter? Gee, Dad, that's kind of shitty of you-"

Trunks was silenced by a punch to the jaw.

"For once I wish you were at that stupid Earthly learning facility," Vegeta snarled the words at Trunks, who was trying to remember how to move his head at the moment, before he walked back into the room where Bulma and Bra were. The door slammed behind him and he left the last of the family outside in the hallway alone.

"Daddy, you shouldn't yell so much," Bra frowned up at her father, staying by her mother's side like a little mini-me.

Vegeta turned his full attention to the cerulean eyes locked on his face. "Why the hell not?"

"It hurts my ears," she informed him matter-of-factly.

"Well then," he grumbled sarcastically and he took a seat by the bed, sneering at the bucket of vomit by the side.

"You're either really quiet or really loud. Daddy, you should find a good medium," Bra nodded firmly.

Vegeta watched her, "I'm not quiet. There's a difference between being quiet and knowing when not to speak."

"You NEVER talk."

"I feel like I've already had this conversation today," Vegeta mumbled, rubbing his temples as he thought back on Bulma's words earlier that evening; 'You never talk to me.'

"Maybe that means you should talk more to broaden your conversations," Bulma's voice came tiredly as she opened her eyes sickly and looked at Vegeta.

"If you even think of sitting up or moving I'm going to knock you out," came his not-so-gentle warning.

She smiled gently, "What happened?" she asked.

"You fell asleep on your feet," Bra answered with a warm smile.

"Ahh… Okay," Bulma yawned. "Sleep doesn't sound like a bad idea right now, actually."

"You should sleep too, Bra."

"Daddy! No!" Bra whimpered, seeming like she'd already forgotten about their fight minutes earlier.

"Yes. You need to sleep," Vegeta spat and he stood up from the chair, grabbing the bucket from the side of the bed. He glanced down into the contents despite his better judgement and gagged.

"Puss," Bulma said insensitively on the bed.

Vegeta grunted at her and left with the bucket as Bra cuddled up to her mother. "Mommy, I wanna make Daddy talk more," she informed her pushily.

"Good luck with that. It took me 8 years to find out his favorite color," Bulma scoffed.

"What is it?" Bra asked in excitement.

"Navy. I'm such a retard," Bulma rolled her eyes. Of course it was navy, that was the only color the man seemed to wear. He hadn't really come out and expressed in a florid manner that the color actually WAS navy though. Bulma remembered the day she had this epiphany very clearly.

_They had been in the kitchen, Trunks had been about 5 and Bulma had said, "What color plate do you want, Trunks?" Little Trunks had said, "I want purple because that's my favorite color!" Vegeta had harrumphed at that and Bulma looked at him expectantly, "What about you?" "Navy."_

That was the most flamboyant he'd ever gotten with colors.

"I like Navy. It's Daddy's color. I like it," Bra declared stubbornly on the bed.

"Good to hear, hun," Bulma kissed Bra on the forehead. "Let's get some rest, okay?"

"I wanna ask to be sure though! I change my mind about my favorite color all the time!" Bra insisted.

"Go for it," Bulma threw her hand in the air lazily at her daughter's energy level even while sick.

Vegeta walked back in with the bucket and plopped it back on the ground.

"DADDY! WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOR?" Bra demanded like a bridge keeper in a famous English comedy.

The Prince of all Saiyans stared at her like she had lost her mind for at least 10 seconds before he replied, "Red."

"What!? I thought it was navy!" Bulma stared at him in shock.

"No. Red." Vegeta's finality made her blood boil.

"Since when?" she glared at him.

"Since forever, you strange woman," Vegeta's eyebrows scrunched together as he slipped into his chair gracefully and crossed his arms.

"That's my favorite color now, too," Bra declared suddenly and the two parents looked at her in surprise.

"Huh?" they gawked in confused unison.

"If it's Daddy's favorite-- it's mine now too," Bra crossed her arms in a mirror of the man sitting opposite of her and she stuck her nose up a little, "And I never want to wear anything not red ever ever ever _ever_ again."

"…Whatever, I want to sleep," Bulma groaned and she rolled away from the two.

"Get to sleep," Vegeta urged the two with a nod.

"Only if you sleep to," Bra ordered.

"Fine. I'll sleep to."

"Over here," she patted the spot on the bed beside her that her mother wasn't occupying. "RIGHT HERE."

Vegeta stared at her for a long time, "You are just as weird as your mother," he sighed but smiled softly, slipping up onto the bed and into the spot that Bra had patted. The little girl wrapped her arms as well as she could around his chest and he smirked just a bit.

"You never did this until you had Bra," Bulma mumbled.

"You never got this sick before Bra," Vegeta's curt reply came.

"Whatever. Just shut up."

"Unlike you, I'm well accustomed to staying quiet when asked to."

"Cocky bastard."

"I love you guys so much," Bra chimed.

"Whatever," the two grumbled in unison, rolling away from each other in a moody fashion as Bra giggled herself to sleep.


	4. He's ill

Author's Notes: Final installment. Don't worry though, I've got a Vegeta&Bra one-shot brewing in my head so be on the look out for that!

* * *

"Are they any better?" Trunks looked at his father as the shorter man dragged his feet into the kitchen in slight grogginess. He cocked his head curiously- Vegeta was normally very composed.

"They were like heaters. I couldn't sleep all night because of how warm they were," Vegeta snatched the coffee pot and poured it into his mug that Bra had made him the previous Father's Day. 'Universe's Best Dad'. The World didn't matter; what was beyond it did.

"But you stuck it out like a dedicated good helper, husband, and father," Trunks lifted his hands in a cheesy thumbs-up, "I didn't think you had it in you, Dad!"

His grin faded when he saw Vegeta was ignoring him and drinking his coffee.

"Is that the soup of great despair?" Trunks motioned to the pot on the stove.

In answer to his question, Vegeta just glared at the pot. "Yes," he practically hissed.

"… I wanna try it," Trunks decided.

"I'm not nursing you back to good health," his father snorted with a roll of his eyes as he took another drink of coffee.

"I wonder if it'll be better or worse now that it's been out all night," Trunks wondered aloud, grabbing a fork and poking the soup in question.

"I'm sure if you threw it out in the dirt and had it brave the elements it'd be delicious," came Vegeta's smart-ass suggestion.

Trunks just smiled though. Some people thought his dad was mean- he personally found the quips hilarious. "I'm not sure I'm that confident in the super-soup."

"Don't name it," Vegeta scowled, walking over now and staring down at the soup for a long time.

"I can't believe you fed Mom and Bra this crap and you didn't have the guts to try it yourself," Trunks said, experimenting to see if he could get his father to stupidly eat the soup by bullying him.

"I had a bad feeling about it. Saiyan instincts."

"You still gave it to Mom and Bra."

"…"

"Prettyyyy mean, Dad."

Vegeta let out a huff at his side and he poked the light film that had appeared at the top of the soup. When his finger penetrated the translucent cover that had formed overnight on the meal he was ashamed to say he cooked himself- the soup made a pop noise like it had been deflated and it sank into itself like the prince had just shot a ki-blast at it.

"Disgusting," Vegeta scowled.

"And you fed your _family_ that. Gross."

"You're my family too," Vegeta looked at him, "I think it's only fair if you suffer as well," and he pointed at the soup matter-of-factly.

"What?! Nuhuh! No way, you can't make me touch that!"

"You're far weaker than me-- you've been slacking in your training. I can make you do whatever I like. So," Vegeta grabbed the spoon and took a scoop before holding it in front of Trunks's face, "suffer."

"You sure you aren't still possessed by that Babidi creep, dad? That's sounding mean even from YOU," Trunks stepped back slightly and Vegeta stepped forward.

"You're harassing me. This is punishment."

"Ehhhhhhh," Trunks whimpered as he stared at the spoon for a long time, "What kind is it? Tomato?"

"Chicken! It's _chicken_ soup!" Vegeta cried out angrily, obviously annoyed nobody could even identify his food, before he shoved the spoon in his son's mouth.

"Swallow it!"

Trunks spit the soup out in the sink and he grabbed the spoon and took a big scoop. "You're poisoning me! You know what will happen and you're feeding me this anyway! MOOOM-" he was silenced to another spoon shoved into his mouth and Vegeta clamped his son's mouth shut before he pinched Trunks's nose so he couldn't breath.

The younger Saiyan's eyes widened and Vegeta smirked victoriously, "Swallow and I'll end your suffering swiftly."

Trunks held out as long as he could but finally he needed to breath and he swallowed.

"The suffering has only begun," he sighed out softly as Vegeta grabbed his coffee and took another drink, standing proudly with his back turned to his son.

"DADDY!" Bra cried out and Vegeta sighed, setting down his cup and he left the room to go find the little girl.

Trunks watched his father leave, making sure he was far enough away by his power level and he hurried over to the pot of soup. "Bad decision, Father. You'll rue it tonight," he smiled evilly as he got a spoonful of soup and walked over to Vegeta's very strong, black, coffee.

Nah, there was no way he'd notice. He was too tired to taste it and the coffee was too strong for that possibility anyway.

With a quick plump! the soup was dropped into the mug and Trunks laughed quietly to himself at his clever plot before repeating the step a few more times for good measure.

Then he groaned at the sudden vertigo he felt and he quickly shuffled off to find the medicine cabinet to beat the soup before he would end up bedridden all day like his sister and mother had been.

"You okay, Daddy?" Bra stared up at her father curiously, "You look… ill," she smiled despite her worry. She had learned that word from him recently and she wanted to use it!

Vegeta looked down at his daughter. It had been about thirty minutes since he'd finished off his cup of coffee and returned back to Bra and Bulma. Bulma was sleeping still so Vegeta had been stuck helping Bra wash up. They were in the bathroom and Vegeta blinked, "I'm fine," he insisted.

He reached his hand up to Bra's ear with the towel and began to dry in any place he might have missed on the first pat down.

"Daddy, you should go back to bed," Bra huffed up at him.

"I need to train."

"You should go back to bed."

"I need to train."

"You should go back to bed."

"I need to train."

"Hey, Daddy?"

Vegeta looked at her, "What?" he exasperated.

"You should go back to bed," Bra said in a sugary tone, smiling at him innocently.

"You're pushy," Vegeta rolled his eyes, "I'm fine. I've braved worse things than a sleepless night."

"You should-"

"Shut up, I know."

"Then go back to bed."

"You know what?" Vegeta put the towel over her head, "You're just like your mother."

Bra just grinned as she took the towel off her face. She removed it from her eyes quick enough to see the prince's strong figure in the doorway, his hand clenched tightly around the frame that kept the door in place. "Daddy?" Bra crawled off the toilet and she began to walk over to him.

"Daddy? What's wrong?" she looked up at him curiously to see her father's face a weird shade of green.

"You _are_ ill!" Bra gasped.

"I am not. Shut up."

"Are too!"

Vegeta opened his eyes to shoot her a look of irritation before he put his free hand over his mouth and he gagged silently, "I think I'm going to vomit."

"YOU **ARE** ILL!" Bra declared again for good measure, pointing at her father accusingly as he suddenly shot for the toilet just in time to empty his guts into it.

"Uh…" The little girl stood there for a long time, trying to decide what to do now.

"MOMMY! DADDY IS ILL!"

"What?" Bulma groaned awake as the little girl ran up and leapt onto the bed, shaking her awake. She still had a slight fever but she was feeling much better.

"Daddy is ILL," Bra was staring at her mother with a stubborn firmness that made it hard for Bulma to reply with logic.

"Your Daddy doesn't get ill- err, get sick," she changed her wording when she realized she was sounding far too much like Vegeta to be normal. "He's a Saiyan."

"He's. Ill."

Bulma scrunched her nose up slightly, "You sure?" Bra nodded so quickly that Bulma had to take her word for it. "Where is he?"

"He's in the bathroom. He threw up," Bra frowned up at her mother sadly. Bulma noted that Bra was in clean clothes so Vegeta must have bathed the little girl for her. He never ceased in surprising her with that tenderness he showed for his daughter.

But the tenderness didn't overcome a new development. Sick? Vegeta? It made no sense to her, she'd never seen the man sick before in her entire married life with him. Hurt? Yeah. Never sick though.

"You go find Trunks, okay? Stay with him for a while," Bulma kissed her daughter's forehead sweetly as she grabbed her robe and wrapped it around her body.

"Mommy," the firmness made Bulma look at Bra, "Daddy fixed you. Now you fix Daddy," then the little girl promptly turned on her heel, in a manner far too much like both of her parents for Bulma not to notice, and she padded out of the room to do as she was told.

Now it was time for Bulma to do as SHE was told. Time to fix Vegeta. Not that she was too sure she was going to be able to do that, though…

To say she was shocked when she walked into the bathroom and saw her husband coiled up slightly against the toilet while his hand reached up to flush whatever he had thrown up was an understatement. To say she was surprised to see him gag a little bit and shut his eyes in misery as his hand slipped slowly back into his lap was definitely an oversimplification.

Bulma couldn't help but just stare at her prince as he shakily took a deep breath and kept his eyes shut. Vegeta wasn't beat up all to hell on the outside. This wasn't something she could slap a Band-Aid on and then send him back to the GR. Prince Vegeta was sick. She was just astounded by it.

She was equally stupefied by how vulnerable he suddenly appeared. Bulma Briefs had always known that her husband was not a large man. She didn't pride herself on his height or lack-there-of, it was the way he carried himself that more than made up for it.

It stunned her. To see him so quiet on the floor, his eyebrows scrunched together in pain, while his mouth opened in wordless torment.

Vegeta was sick.

It took a good minute before she could get over how much that initial thought floored her. "Vegeta?" she said softly as she stepped in more. His eyes opened and he looked up at her with glazed over eyes.

"What happened?" Bulma carefully slipped down so she was kneeling beside him. She tried to approach her husband like he was a scared stray animal on the streets. She found he was less apt to attack her verbally when he did that.

"If I knew, I'd fix it," was his reply, his voice hoarser than usual.

"Oh, you're a mess," she sighed, reaching her hand up to his forehead and she gasped at how warm he was. "You're on fire."

"I was nothing but pleasant… I don't understand this karma…" her prince groaned against the toilet and Bulma wrapped her hands around his body to ease him up against the wall. He shut his eyes again, "I took care of you and I'm contaminated now…" he shook his head mournfully as she ran her hand over his cheek a few times. It would never cease to amaze her how youthful his skin stayed despite all the hardships he endured. The scars that littered his body were so common that Bulma felt odd touching any rare part of his skin that didn't have an indentation in it. But the sin was, initially, nice and young. A Saiyan didn't age like humans did, he'd told her. No, they most certainly didn't age like humans. Vegeta always seemed to be blossoming, every day awakening even more handsome and regal than he had the day before.

Nobody would know how handsome her husband was, though. He never liked the press. Some of the paparazzi liked to say her husband was locked up in a basement and being used to give her beautiful children. In a way they were right; Vegeta hardly ever came out of the Gravity Room except to have sex and eat.

She sighed, running her hands along the shirt covering his broad chest and she began to gently lift it up over his shoulders, "You need to cool down," she softly cooed out to him. She got a grunt of acknowledgement but she was used to that. It meant 'yes'.

Or so she thought. Maybe she should ask to make sure. She'd been wrong about the color thing for such an awfully long time it was hard to assume anything anymore.

"Ugh? What's that supposed to mean?" Bulma demanded insensitively as she tugged the shirt off roughly and looked at him expectantly.

Vegeta looked at her for a long time, "Wha?"

"'What?'" She cocked her head, "It means, 'what?' ?" her eyes were probing.

"No…"

"It means 'no'?"

"No…"

"Vegeta, you're being very difficult and I don't appreciate it."

He shut his eyes and moved his head away from her. "It means… ugh."

"Is that Saiyan?" she asked.

"Since when did my non-verbal communication become so damn interesting? You got along just fine before," Vegeta snipped.

"Okay, then I was right. Cool," Bulma resumed her cradling of his face- this time with a cool rag. "If I were a lesser person I'd slap this on your face like you did to me yesterday."

"Good thing you're not like me, then," Vegeta's tired words came to her. There was no sarcasm in them.

Bulma watched him for a long time, her hands going through the motions slowly to gage his expression. His eyes opened and Vegeta looked at her with those charcoal eyes.

"You've always been such a mess…" She said softly to him, the words tender as she patted his cheek softly with the rag. "Ever since the day we met. You're always reaching for something practically unattainable…"

"Are you asking a question?" he asked dryly as he stared into her with a vacant gaze. He was putting those damn walls up again. Vegeta was trying to keep his emotions out of reach from her. Nuhuh, not again. Not after Buu. Ooooh no, she wasn't playing that game.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you always moving? Why can't you just rest for a while? Settle down completely? I mean, you can still train but… You know, don't make it the reason for getting up in the morning! I should be the reason you wake up. Bra should be the reason you function. Trunks should be the reason you… Appreciate peace," she smiled softly and Vegeta scoffed in amusement at her words, shutting his eyes again. "This restlessness though," she regained the serious note in her tone, "It's not healthy. You and I both know that after what happened-"

"That isn't going to happen again," he cut her off so quickly that Bulma retracted her hand to make sure he didn't slap it away in his anger. He was hard to predict and more times than she could count had her heart-to-hearts with him been cut off because he didn't want to hear the truth because it pissed him off.

"I'm going to make sure of that," Bulma curtly replied as Vegeta opened his those black eyes to stare at her.

Those eyes… Bulma never could say what it was in them that attracted her to him. Whether it had been the pride or the honor she felt radiating from them but in that moment she knew there was none of that. No. Vegeta was just a hurt soul. The things that happened on Frieza's ship had made him into the man she met and she had made him into the man in front of her right then. Those eyes were hard like a piece of black steel. Immovable. He was a stoic figure in her mind. She'd never forget the grief she'd felt when he had sacrificed himself or the glee she'd felt when he'd return.

"I'm glad one of us is keeping tabs," Vegeta pulled her back into the current situation. He was being sarcastic.

"… If I didn't know any better I'd say you've got food poisoning, 'Geta."

"I didn't eat that soup though," he shut his eyes again in pain.

"Hey, Dad, this helped me out," Trunks tossed in a pink bottle from the doorway, he had been walking by, "It'll help those cramps, too." Vegeta opened his eyes to look at his son who staring in with a sort of 'I WIN' look.

"You dirty fighter," Vegeta growled but his pride for his son was swelling. "How did you-"

"Mom always says you hardly taste the coffee- you chug it down so fast," Trunks innocently said before he hurried off before Vegeta lost his sense of humor.

Bulma blinked in confusion, staring at the doorway before looking at her husband on the floor beside her. He started laughing softly though, shaking his head, "I taught him well," he declared and Bulma smiled.

"You taught him something but 'well' is not the word I'd use," then she smiled, "Hah… The only person able to make you sick… was yourself," she grinned at him cattily.

"Shut up," he growled and Bulma just laughed and laughed.

Oh yeah, she'd always remember that when he insulted her cooking from now on.


End file.
